


Little Weaknesses

by TintagelCastle



Series: Little Weaknesses [1]
Category: Yonderland (TV)
Genre: Dissectus has Big Boy Feelings, Established Relationship, Evil Overlords Club, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship, Villain relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26390332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TintagelCastle/pseuds/TintagelCastle
Summary: For a second Voltari looked like he was going to refuse. He stood there, glaring at Dissectus like he would like nothing better than to storm off in a huff. But they’d never really been able to disobey each other.Voltari is late.
Relationships: Dissectus/Voltari (Yonderland)
Series: Little Weaknesses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022341
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written anything, but this burrowed it's way into my brain and would NOT budge. 
> 
> For context: In this story my headcanon is that Dissectus and Voltari have been in a long-term, fully committed relationship but keep it secrets because they're BOTH paranoid little shits. 
> 
> WARNING FOR SLIGHT LANGUAGE.

If there was one thing you could say for the Elders, Dissectus mused, it was that they never skimped on the finer things. 

Leaning back on the plush red cushions they had found in the main chamber he popped another piece of fruit in his mouth and surveyed his private quarters. As Cuddly Dick’s right hand man he’d naturally been given the second largest of the bedrooms recently vacated by the previous occupants. He’d heard that this particular room had belonged to the so-called ‘Wise’ Elder Vex, which had given him no small wave of amusement given that he and Vex _were_ distantly related somewhere along the paternal line. Whilst the rest of the Overlords had wasted no time turfing out the possessions not to their tastes, Dissectus was in no rush. The crushed velvet chaise lounge was a particularly comfortable piece of furniture that he was seriously considering taking back to his own keep whenever he was to return. Vex wouldn’t miss it, if he even lived still. Dissectus didn’t particularly care much.

He chewed another piece of fruit lazily, checking his watch.

Voltari was late.

This wasn’t surprising, Voltari seemed to feel that schedules were something that happened to other people, and that the world would just reset itself around his wants accordingly. It was a usual spat between the two of them; Dissectus prided himself on his flawless punctuality drilled into him by his military training and was endlessly frustrated by the other man’s absolute _refusal_ to glance at a timetable. Tonight, however, was different. His Eminence had called an emergency after the Maddox woman had stirred up some dissent among the populace, protesting the new regime and as the new Master of Propaganda, it was Voltari’s job to exact damage control. 

Still, that had been hours ago, and the castle had long since fallen silent. Dissectus was beginning to feel uneasy, though it would have taken a literal Mega dragon attack to get him to admit such a thing.

He often worried about Voltari. It was practically a full-time job at this point.

As if on cue, the door to Dissectus’ chambers opened softly. The familiar head of long dark hair came into view as Voltari slithered into the room, quietly pushing the door closed behind him.

Dissectus pointedly looked at his watch. “You’re late.”

Voltari shot him a look that was distinctly unimpressed. “Well next time you can sneak into _my_ rooms and avoid all the staff.”

“The staff have probably all retired for the night, you paranoid little beetle. Besides, _you_ picked rooms on the other side of the damn building.”

“I’d rather avoid rumours if I can help it.”

Dissectus raised an eyebrow sardonically at him. “I thought rumours and whispers were your whole business.”

That earned him a quick, vicious little grin in return. “Only the ones I put out there myself. Careful, I could start one about you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Voltari sighed and briefly ran a finger under his eyepiece, rubbing gently at the leather strap pressing on his skin. Dissectus frowned, he knew Voltari only indulged in that particular tic when he was either incredibly stressed or incredibly exhausted. Going by the slight slump in his usual rod-straight posture, it was very possible he was both.

“Eye acting up?” he asked innocently, ignoring the glare it earned him.

“Fuck off.” The other man grumbled half-heartedly, rolling his shoulders before leaning against the wood of the door, arms folded. “Started without me I see?”

Dissectus hummed and made a show of stretching out languidly, idly picking at the food he’d ordered the kitchen staff to bring him earlier. Grabbing the jug of dark red wine in front of him, he poured a generous amount into a spare goblet and held it out. Voltari took it and took a few careful sips. Dissectus rolled his eyes at that, feeling a little insulted. He had tried to poison Voltari _once_ , and only with the friendliest of intentions, thank you very much. He also wanted to point out that Voltari had tried to poison him right back so, for all intents and purposes, that made them even. He clucked his tongue.

“Well, if you kept to a timetable for once in your life-”

“I was _summoned,_ you pillock, just because you like to sit around on your arse-”

“Oh yes I’m sure the gossip columns will be pleased with your noble endeavours. Will that be before or after the knitting patterns?”

“You _little-_ ”

Dissectus threw a peach at him, cutting off whatever insult Voltari was going to hurl his way. Voltari dodged it easily, ignoring how it bounced off the door and rolled harmlessly to the floor by his feet. A slight flush was creeping onto his pale cheeks, betraying how stressed he really must have been obeying Cuddly Dick’s sudden demands. He relented his onslaught, instead patting the cushions next to him. 

“Come here.”

For a second Voltari looked like he was going to refuse. He stood there, glaring at Dissectus like he would like nothing better than to storm off in a huff. But they’d never really been able to disobey each other, not even in their earliest days. He pushed himself from where he was leaning and slunk over to the chaise, where he sank into the cushions next to Dissectus, automatically opening his mouth for Dissectus to push a grape inside. The emergency had been declared just as the council had sat down to their evening meal and all those involved with His Eminence’s PR campaigns had rushed away without really touching any of the food. The more militant generals, such as himself, had carried on, their expertise not needed for _that_ sort of crisis. He’d taken care to ensure food for Voltari’s return, however. Well, ensured extra food for _him_ , as far as he had allowed the servants to believe. Evil Overlords did not get fruit and wine for secret late-night meetings because they were worried about their _friends_. 

(He blamed his parents for that one. You couldn’t name a child _Dissectus_ and expect them to grow up to be a florist.)

“You’re thinking awfully loudly.” Voltari’s voice cut across his mind, gruff and clipped. He had put his head back and closed his eyes. The shadows under his eyes prominent in the torchlight of the room. 

“I was just thinking about how you missed Draven pulling Negatus’ trousers down at dinner.” He grinned. Gods above something about that guy made his skin crawl. How a creeping little worm like Negatus managed a place in the council of Overlords was beyond even him. Cuddly Dick relegating him to sanitation was a welcome change of pace, as Giles had noted the other morning. He’d been getting away with his incompetence for far too long. For someone claiming to never tolerate failure, the late Imperatrix had certainly been willing to indulge his mistakes time and time again. His bumbling attempts to capture the Maddox woman had made them a laughingstock in all the people’s eyes. Dissectus had had to order several executions to keep his territory from sniggering very time he walked past.

Voltari snorted. “Good on Draven.”

A pale hand came up to run alongside the leather strap again. Dissectus reached over to pull it away. A noise of confusion rumbled from the other man as he sat up a little straighter, looking at Dissectus questioningly. 

“Here,” Dissectus said, sliding his other hand up Voltari’s neck to rest on the side of his face. “Let me.”

It never failed to give him a small thrill when Voltari consented, tilting his head forward slightly to give him access. It had become almost a ritual between them, done only when they were completely alone and in no hurry. It was a declaration of complete and total trust. Dissectus remembered the first time he’d done it, to know Voltari trusted him with the last piece of weakness. And, in turn, how it felt to open himself up to the same vulnerability by allowing Voltari to push off Dissectus’ own greatcoat. 

How young they’d been then.

His hands were surer now, no longer needing to see where the buckles were, or which pieces of the straps went where. It was merely the work of a moment. Nevertheless, Dissectus always ensured he slowed down, giving the other man time to change his mind. Voltari never did.

The straps fell open and Voltari’s glass eyepiece fell away from his face, exposing his ruined eye to the open air. 

The wounds had never healed completely right, despite the physician’s best efforts (and oh how Dissectus _made sure_ they’d tried…). Raised scars stood out stark white against the red, puckered skin around the socket. The eye itself, once as rich and dark as its twin, was now a clouded grey, the pupil a pinprick that struggled to land on a single target. The lenses in the eyepiece helped him to focus his sight, which had been welcome news when it was discovered that Voltari had not been _totally_ blinded in that eye. He’d once confessed to Dissectus, whilst drunk on the finest Vagueland wine, that whilst he could technically still see, the lenses warped what vision they gave him, causing him to be dizzy if he kept the eye open for too long. He’d not been drunk enough, unfortunately, to tell Dissectus what it was _exactly_ that had caused the injury in the first place.

All he knew was that whatever had happened had also affected Giles. Voltari had been visiting the territory at the time to help destroy a theatrical company that had been questioning Giles’ rule ( _Evil Overlord Bros before Shows_ , as the old saying went) Dissectus felt an old familiar stab of resentment towards the shorter man. It had happened in _his_ territory and Giles had the luck to come away with only light scarring, whereas Voltari had been in the medical wing for days.

When Dissectus finally heard the news that the other Overlord that had been grievously injured nearly three territories away had been _Voltari_ of all people , his servants had been mopping up the messenger’s blood for _ages_. 

“Gods above you’re hideous.” He teased, placing the eyepiece gently next to the fruit bowl. Voltari smiled.

“Says the man with paint on his lips.”

Dissectus snorted. “I happen to be the most eligible bachelor this side of Hitherland, haven’t you heard?”

“Whose rumour is that?” Voltari asked, his face the very picture of curiosity, “Can’t be one of mine…”

Dissectus leaned in conspiratorially, “Yeah, you’re not that honest.”

“I don’t appreciate this slander of my good character.”

“Don’t be a bastard then.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Voltari chuckled softly. Dissectus saw his chance and pushed forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Voltari’s lips. He let the kiss linger, bringing his hand up once again to rest on the other’s cheek, brushing the dark hair aside slightly as he did so. 

As he made to pull away Voltari brought his own hands to Dissectus’ shoulders, anchoring him there as Voltari opened his mouth the deepen the kiss. Dissectus was happy to oblige, chasing the faint taste of grape and wine still on Voltari’s tongue. 

He’d missed this. 

What with their new leader’s coup and the summons to a new base, they had hardly time to really talk with one another, let alone _this_. It was hard enough when they were back in their own territories, where rebels sniffed out any perceivable information that would help their stupid little causes. If word got out in Dissectus’ own territory that he was frequently sharing a bed with another Overlord (and had, in fact, been for decades) then he could kiss goodbye to his reputation of being a ruthless, peerless rock of a man. Voltari, too, would be in danger. Threats, blackmail, outright rebellion…no, it was far too valuable a secret to share. 

Even here, with the other Overlords, was a risk. Dissectus trusted absolutely none of them and knew the feeling was entirely mutual. Obtaining your power was a test of strength and cunning, _keeping_ your power was another chess game entirely. 

Perhaps Voltari had been right to be paranoid. 

Drawing back at last, Dissectus jerked his head towards the food. “Eat.”

Voltari huffed and tossed his head as he reached towards a slice of tart. “Yes, mother. Could have led with that _before_ you kissed me…”

Dissectus hummed in amusement and reached a hand to draw the hair from Voltari’s face. He remembered a time when it had all been black, before the years had put a streak of silver for his fingers to chase when Voltari was asleep. He’d teased him at first for dyeing it deliberately for a more ‘distinguished’ look which had quickly descended into an all-out row when Voltari ever-so-helpfully pointed out the beginnings of crow’s feet on Dissectus’ own face.

They hadn’t spoken to each other for a week after that. 

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” Voltari snapped up at him, batting his away. 

Dissectus sat back, “Touchy, touchy. You rather I stare at you during a morning meeting instead?”

Voltari frowned. “You can’t.”

“I _know_ , I just…” Dissectus sighed, running a hand over his face. It was an old argument they’d hashed out at least fifty times over the years. The need for secrecy was vital in their own lands, even more so in this new place with a new leader they still didn’t fully understand. No matter how much either of them would wish it otherwise. 

“I need you.” He finished off lamely. Voltari’s face instantly softened.

“I’m here.”

And that was just the thing wasn’t it? They couldn’t even _say_ it to each other, not even in the privacy of each other’s company. Saying it would make it a real, tangible thing, too easily broken and warped. Evil Overlords didn’t say… _that_ to anybody, because they _didn’t_ , it was a rule of life. Water was wet (usually), the sky was blue (sometimes), and ruthless rulers of war and chaos didn’t get to ruin those three little words the way the civilians could. 

They could say it in other ways, though. A look here, a stolen touch there. A vicious rumour suddenly spreading against the other’s political rival. A violent, bloody quashing of a would-be rebellion…

And, sometimes in the dead of night, a whisper.

_I need you._

_I’m here._

Dissectus shook himself mentally, clearing away those sorts of thoughts for another time. The food was nearly gone, having been practically inhaled by Voltari whilst Dissectus’ mind had wandered. The other man was now once again rolling his shoulders, glancing at Dissectus’ plush bed in the far-off corner. Dissectus stood and held out a hand.

“Nap?”

Voltari raised an eyebrow sceptically. Dissectus heaved his most dramatic sigh in response and waggled his fingers expectantly.

“Just a nap. I don’t want to fuck you when you’re barely keeping your eyes open.”

“Oh, thank you _so_ much, what a gentleman-”

“Just move your ugly carcass and get in the bed, ‘Tari.”

The other man huffed, more out of habit than anything, and kicked his boots off before reaching up to take Dissectus’ outstretched hand. His skin was cool to the touch where he pressed a quick kiss into their interlocked fingers. Dissectus pulled him over towards the large bed, decorated in the same red velvet as the cushions (Vex, apparently, _did_ have exceptional taste) and made himself comfortable, waiting for Voltari to settle himself down next to him. Once they were both laying, Voltari reached out and pulled Dissectus close to him, his face pressing between Dissectus’ shoulders and his arm draped along his ribs.

“I’ll wake you before sunrise.” Dissectus half-whispered. Voltari raised his head behind him.

“You’re not sleeping?”

“I will,” he replied, patting the other’s hand. “Unlike you I actually give a shit about schedules.”

Voltari growled, but without any real heat. “Shut the fuck up.”

Dissectus laughed to himself and craned his neck to blow out some of the candles on the bedside table. It did not make much of a difference, considering the handful of flaming torches still lit around the chamber, but the thought was there. He didn’t need all that much sleep, something else he put down to years of military experience. He had in plenty of time to rest himself, then wake Voltari in the early hours before the others began to rise. It’d give them enough time for Voltari to sneak back into his own rooms. As far as anybody knew, Dissectus had been alone the entire night.

But for now, he let himself relax in the arms of the one person he actually gave a damn about in all the realms put together. The only person that he knew gave a damn about him back.

As his eyes closed, he felt a slight tightening of the arm around him.

“I need you.” Voltari whispered into his neck.

“I’m here.”

…………………………………..

Just before dawn, in another part of the castle, candlelight spluttered weakly in a room forbidden to all the castle’s inhabitants.

Cuddly Dick sat back in his chair, eyes scanning the various screens in front of him.

He wasn’t an _idiot_ , no matter what his cutesy persona told people. This disguise was perfect. Not a single soul, upon meeting him for the first time, believed him capable of anything beyond the rare disappointed word. It was almost comical how easily the Elders had accepted him back into the fold, no questions asked. They hadn’t even been curious as to what had happened during Imperatrix’s control of his realm, or how he might have changed because of it. They’d even been so polite as to not question his recently acquired hair, letting his _new friend_ settle in quite nicely.

Even the Chosen One, more astute than the Elder’s combined, had blindly accepted whatever sweet little lies he fed her. It had all been so _easy_ ….

His nice little council of so-called ‘Overlords’ were certainly no exception. Did they honestly think he couldn’t see their greedy little minds at work? Taking in his persona and not seeing what lurked underneath? He knew what their lot were like. If they had thought he was some weak-willed little upstart with delusions of power they would have mutinied without a second thought. They had thought to undermine the sugar but had encountered the steel beneath.

Such a shame he’d had to kill the angry one.

They had been cowed in moments. The murder of one of their own had quelled the ambition before it had a chance to really start. The lowered eyes of Voltari, the shaking head of General Kutz…they were under his control for now.

Still, it didn’t hurt to be prepared. It’s why he’d installed magic mirrors in all their rooms. You couldn’t be too careful, after all. 

The various screen flickered lazily, as if bored by the tasks they’d been assigned. Dick couldn’t say he blamed them, watching Giles floss his teeth for the seventh time that night must be rather dull. He’d heard tale once that a magic mirror had been implicated in the murder of a young princess, which was probably the most interesting reputation mirrors got, all things considered. 

His eyes passed over the view of Dissectus’ room when he did a double take.

Dissectus wasn’t alone. 

Dick frowned when he recognised the second figure. “Voltari?”

Yes, clear as day, Cuddly Dick watched as his right-hand man sat in nothing but trousers and an undershirt, securing the straps of the other man’s eyepiece. Voltari was in a similar state of dress, jacket hanging open at the chest. When the monocle was secured to their liking, Dissectus pressed a lazy kiss to the corner of Voltari’s mouth.

Now wasn’t _this_ interesting?

Dick had selected Dissectus to be his second in command for a few reasons. The main one being that Dissectus had shown himself to be nothing but a smug, jumped up little bully underneath all that extensive battle prowess. Someone like that was always useful to keep to hand. He delighted in war and as proved by his attitude towards snivelling Negatus, all too happy to be in charge. That said, however, bullies were always easily controlled, in the end. They were just as weak as the others, and all the louder and more aggressive in hiding it. Having Dissectus throwing his weight around to counteract Dick’s cutesy demeanour had been a stroke of genius. The more aggressive Dissectus was, the more soothing the balm of Dick’s placating manner was to the general populace. 

Voltari was a different breed. His ways were more insidious and quieter than Dissectus, oily and trickier to see coming. It was what made him an excellent choice to oversee Dick’s propaganda campaigns, sprinkling the seeds of resentment towards the old regime. His work to destroy the character of the people’s beloved Chosen One was truly to be commended. However, he was just as see-through as Dissectus when it came down to it. He’d lowered his eyes and turned away one he’d seen the power Dick could truly wield. 

And now, here they were, presenting him with their weakness.

A laughably _exploitable_ one at that. 

It wouldn’t take much to keep Dissectus’ ambition or Voltari’s whispers in check. A pointed look here, the shadow of a threat there. A casually thrown sentence questioning Dissectus’ health within Voltari’s hearing…. Dissectus seeing him clap Voltari’s shoulder a little _too_ tightly…

Oh yes. This was going to be the simplest thing in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm back! You were all so lovely last time and I know I'm SUPER LATE with this second half but thank you so much for your kind words and patience <3
> 
> I'd written this all out but deleted a MASSIVE chunk of it when I read it over again because it didn't -FEEL- right, if that makes sense? Cuddly Dick is much smarter than me and it's not easy to make words Go Right. 
> 
> For clarification: I know you probably all saw the 'Mike Emical-Romants' thing on Twitter, but I'd already called that Overlord 'Draven' in my previous chapter, so I'm going to stick with that for this AU (forgive me!)  
> I also called Larry's other Overlord that got cuddled to death 'Karral' in this. It's not essential knowledge, I just wanted to throw that out there....
> 
> ALSO also, has anybody listened to 'Ghost Love Score' by Nightwish? .....no reason.

“Oh, Dissectus?”

Dissectus paused, looking over at His Eminence who was waving him over with a genial smile. The meeting had been concluded with a cloud of frustration hanging over the entire group at the lack of new intelligence as to the whereabouts of the Elders. Either their scouts combing the local woodlands were godlike in their incompetence or the former rulers of Yonderland were smarter than they appeared. The Maddox woman was obviously involved somehow, but there was no luck pinning her down either. 

As they were filing out, Cuddly Dick had called out. Dissectus made his way over.

“A private word, if you don’t mind?” Dick smiled at him.

“Of course, Your Eminence.” 

The warm smile widened, and a thought seemed to occur to him. He raised his head slightly as the last of the Overlords were exiting, “Close the door on your way out would you please, Voltari?”

Voltari bowed sharply as he obeyed, sparing Dissectus only the briefest of glances as he did so. You couldn’t fit a whole lot into split second looks, but they’d had lots of practice over the years. It was a steady, reassuring look. _You’ll be fine._

Once the door had shut and Voltari had left. Dick sighed contentedly.

“He’s a good egg isn’t he, that Voltari?”

Dissectus frowned slightly, confused. “My Lord?”

“Well, I don’t mean a _good_ egg of course,” Dick continued in a pleasant, almost absentminded tone, “We’re all bad eggs, aren’t we? Being an evil council and all. I mean, you’re Overlords, I imagine you can’t get a good egg in a bad egg academy. It’d be scrambled like the dickens….But there we are I suppose. So, he’s a good _bad_ egg, yes?”

Dissectus was suddenly assaulted with the idea that their glorious leader was ill. He remembered when Voltari had a fever once and had spouted nonsense about being a _Regent-Sea Poet_ , whatever that was. Perhaps he should fetch a physician…

“I….I don’t follow, My Lord. Are you well?”

“Perfectly, Dissectus.” His Eminence assured him, patting Dissectus’ arm in his friendly way. The smile was back, which had a way of making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Dissectus thought of poor Karral, who had been killed for not seeing the hidden dangers behind that sugar sweet smile. 

“What I’m _asking_ Dissectus, as my Second-in-Command, is what you think of Voltari?”

Dissectus felt the familiar swell of pride puff in his chest. _Second-in-Command_ , he liked that. Imperatrix had never given him proper recognition for his talents and had not sought another deputy after Anous had vanished. Dissectus had offered his services, as had Voltari, but she had ignored them and continued with her machinations. Being snubbed by their glorious leader had been quite the blow to Dissectus’ pride but she had decided to play the field between her and the Chosen One alone.

And she had died alone. Served her right. 

Now, here was Cuddly Dick, a leader getting things _done_ , asking him opinions of his fellow Overlords. The ladder of power was getting shorter and shorter. 

He would have to tread carefully here. As far as anyone was concerned, he and Voltari were, at the most, friendly colleagues. If he kept things cool and professional, nobody would know more than that. Being overly candid and appreciative could be misconstrued.

“He’s good at his job.” He proffered. Cuddly Dick hummed.

“Yes, my Master of Whispers… he is good at what he does, the rascal.”

Dissectus kept his face neutral. Voltari was the _best_ at what he did. Half the rebellions crushed were due to Voltari’s mastery of political influence. It caused him as much pride as his own achievements, when the other man won a goal or swayed the tide of events. 

“I just wonder if he’s aware of _every_ whisper.”

Frowning, Dissectus looked sharply to Dick, who was staring at the door pensively. A prickle of alarm ran down his spine, like needles.

“What do you mean, Your Eminence?”

“Let’s get to the heart of the matter early. I’ve heard rumours, my dear Dissectus…” Dick sighed, looking at him with a shake of his head. “That our little Master of Whispers has been creeping around at night.”

Dissectus’ insides turned to ice.

“You….you think he’s-”

“Oh no! I don’t think he’s a _traitor_ if that’s what you’re worried about. Goodness Dissectus, your _face!_ No no…. no, I simply don’t like the idea that my men feel the need to creep without my knowledge.”

Relief trickled Dissectus , loosening the hard knot of dread threatening to form in his stomach. It was fine. It was all _fine_ …

“However,” Dick continued, mild voice turning sharper. “If I _do_ discover he’s meeting friends that would turn on me….Well, I suppose I’ll just have to give him a nice firm cuddle, won’t I?”

Dissectus swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “I suppose so, Your Eminence.”

Cuddly Dick raised an eyebrow at him. “This is just between us, mind you. I don’t want anyone to get word of it.”

“Of course, My Lord.” Dissectus agreed, fighting the urge to flee. His feet felt like stone in his efforts to remain upright as the world lurched horribly. He felt like retching.

Dick’s hand found its way to his shoulder, where it gave another reassuring pat. “Good man, just keep an eye on him for me? Until I know better, then we can all sleep easy at night.”

Forcing a nod, Dissectus cursed himself for his weakness and made himself stand a little straighter. Reacting could give everything away, probably _had_ given everything away. He wracked his brains to remember any little slip they could have made. This could work in his favour, he thought, he could warn Voltari. Keep their distance for the time being and they’d be alright. It would hurt, but they’d be alright.

His train of thought was broken as he met Dick’s gaze, which was still placid and genial but there was no mistaking the cold sharpness around the edges. His Eminence leaned in and whispered in Dissectus’ ear.

_“Especially if you don’t sleep alone.”_

Before Dissectus could react, Cuddly Dick stepped away, levelling him with an icy stare. Dissectus felt his face burn and knew the pretence was over. Dick had seen all he needed to see. And now he _knew._

“You _are_ my loyal right-hand man, aren’t you Dissectus?”

“Of course, my Lord.” Dissectus rasped. “Always.”

“Keep it that way. I’d hate to find a new Master of Whispers, after all.”

Forcing himself into a rigid bow, Dissectus felt hot bile wash his insides. His mind raced with the options laid out before him. He’d come too far to throw all his newfound power away on a kiss. But then, Dick knew that too. He hadn’t threatened Dissectus’ life, he’d threatened _Voltari’s_ -

The heart of the matter, after all.

Dissectus glanced up to see Cuddly Dick still staring at him, though with less outright venom than before and a painful realisation solidified itself.

He would have to close himself off from Voltari.

He said nothing as Dick hummed happily, turning to leave. “Well, now that that’s concluded, I think I’ll treat myself to a spot of lunch, and I think I know just what to have.”

Hand upon the door he turned back to Dissectus, who bit back another wave of sickness.

“W-What’s that, my Lord.”

A flash of teeth in an oil-slick smile.

_“Scrambled eggs.”_

**************

The end of the meeting had been much like all the rest, eventually petering into a more casual hubbub of chat and drinking. Dissectus sniffed dubiously at a prawn Giles had the wit to wave away when the plate had passed them. It had been almost a week since his talk with His Eminence and he had thrown himself into his duties with even more vigour. His efforts with the militant forces had been praised and he’d welcomed the friendly pats on the back from his fellow Overlords. He’d even found himself thawing slightly towards Negatus, treating his incompetence with more tolerance than he normally would.

He’d actively been avoiding Voltari.

It had hurt just as much as he had predicted it would. Never giving the other a chance to get him alone, he barely allowed himself to look at Voltari in meetings anymore. The one time he did, it had been to deliver a critique of his latest propaganda efforts. Voltari had borne it with his usual professionalism, but it had been difficult to ignore the momentary flash of hurt in his eyes as Dissectus abruptly turned his back and walked away. If they had been in either of their own homelands, Voltari would have sprung out on him and demanded answers, they’d come away with bloody knuckles and filthy whispers. 

He didn’t like keeping secrets from him.

General Kutz’ deep voice thundered as he finished the punchline to some awful joke he’d been telling, snapping Dissectus’ attention back to the present. As he chuckled along he noticed Cuddly Dick making his way over to the other side of the hall, where a gaggle of other Overlords had gathered, Voltari among them. Taking another swig of his wine, he turned slightly away. Not enough to fully put them in his blind spot, but enough to not look like he cared. 

“Gods this stuff is disgusting,” Giles was saying, putting his own goblet down with a look of distaste. Out of all of them, Giles was probably the one with the most refined palate, and could probably tell you the lineage of the winemaker’s _dentist_ if he could be bothered, and was the most vocally dismissive of the Elder’s kitchen staff. One day he’d piss off the wrong cook entirely and they’d all be choking on some indetectable poison, no doubt. Dissectus wasn’t so discerning with his alcohol. While it was certainly _nice_ to have the finer things, whatever got him drunk the quickest usually took precedence. Still, he hummed absently in agreement.

Cuddly Dick was saying something to Voltari, who inclined his head with the familiar expression of slightly bored politeness. Dick smiled warmly without any obvious malice and reached up a hand to pat Voltari genially on the shoulder. 

Giles continued, “You know, I’m sure they’re trying to kill us with these shitty wines. Didn’t the Elders stock anything better?”

“Why don’t you go and check yourself?” Dissectus replied, draining what was left of his drink as Kutz rumbled a laugh. Giles shot him an unimpressed glare, nearly falling forward as Kutz’ massive hand slapped him on the back.

Dissectus quirked his lips at Giles’ discomfort, risking another glance to the other end of the hall and nearly choked on air as he did so.

Dick’s hand was firmly on Voltari’s shoulder, and he didn’t need to be near them to see the whiteness of his knuckles. Though His Eminence was still wearing a placid smile all Dissectus could see was the subtle tightening around Voltari’s eyes and jaw betraying how painful the grip must have been. 

Perhaps then, if Voltari had turned his head away from Dick and looked at Dissectus, Dissectus may have done something reckless. He’d seen Voltari in more pain than this before and God’s above knew his wits had been shaky then. He’d have crossed the room and risked it all, everything, if Voltari had looked to him.

But Voltari didn’t. Whatever Dick had been saying hadn’t seemed to faze him. Nothing except for the signs only someone who knew him like Dissectus did made it look like he was concerned in the slightest. His lips moved in response, the hubbub of the hall making it impossible to hear the words and Dissectus had been slipping in his ability to lip read. Whatever he was saying wasn’t what bothered Dissectus though.

It was the fact Cuddly Dick had stared straight at him for a second.

In that second, Dissectus understood _exactly_ the message their glorious leader had been trying to send. It hadn’t been meant for Voltari at all.

_You see how easy it would be?_

Dissectus forced himself to look away, swallowing hard. Giles clucked his tongue.

“Are you well, Dissectus? You look like you’re about to vomit.”

“I’m fine.” Dissectus snapped. “You were right about this wine, it’s turned my stomach.”

Giles made a commiserating noise, not entirely sympathetic, and waved down another passing plate of some sort of biscuits and paste. Out of the corner of his eye Dissectus saw the shape of Cuddly Dick glide back towards his private chambers, calling out friendly goodbyes as he did so. Voltari had not moved from his spot. Slowly he raised a hand to massage at where the grip had no doubt left bruises. As his head began to turn Dissectus’ stomach rolled.

_Don’t look at me. I can’t help you. I won’t be able to stand it if you’re afraid. PLEASE don’t look to me._

“Excuse me a minute.”

Without waiting for a reply from either Kutz or Giles, Dissectus span on his heel and marched out of the room, nearly bowling over one of the serving staff. If Voltari had turned to him, all he would have seen was his coattails whipping around the door.

Dissectus sped into an empty bathroom stall and did not stop retching for a long while.

************

Dissectus was hiding something.

Voltari chewed a thumbnail distractedly as he watched his propaganda agents scuttle about with the latest press releases for His Eminence. In the past few weeks, the other man had all but cut off any form of contact with Voltari and the few times he _had_ spoken to him had been cold and curt. He was used to Dissectus’ mercurial moods and could adapt to all of them but this was new. He wasn’t angry with Voltari, Voltari was sure. They hadn’t quarrelled about anything recently aside from their usual bickering, from what Voltari could remember. Anyway, Dissectus’ rage was a heated thing, all boiling venom and outward violence. Dissectus’ rage was in smashed pottery and flipped tables, not this sudden freezing and withdrawal. At first Voltari hadn’t been concerned, merely assuming their lack of contact had been the result of coincidence and their own paranoia. But as time went on it had given way to confusion.

Dissectus wouldn’t even _look_ at him anymore if he could help it. 

It hadn’t been until Voltari had witnessed Dissectus immediately switch directions when he caught sight of Voltari in a corridor that Voltari finally twigged that the silence had been _deliberate_. 

He’d been angry, at first. He was built for secrecy after all. And an Overlord’s prerogative was to keep as many as possible. 

He just didn’t like that Dissectus had been keeping secrets from _him_. 

He’d heard no rumours or news of any fights occurring among the others. And, as far as he was aware, Voltari wasn’t planning on starting any. If Dissectus had been closed off in public, Voltari could understand. But the fact Dissectus seemed to be actively trying to ignore him in private as well made it a personal matter. Voltari only wished he knew what the matter was.

_Something_ must have happened though, and Voltari hated being kept in the dark. If they were in their own territories, he would _make_ the other man tell him…

One of his agents crept up to him, shrinking back a little as he fell under Voltari’s eye. He’d heard from escaped rebels that suddenly having your own frightened reflection staring back at you from the black glass of the eyepiece was quite the intimidating experience. People that saw it in their every day lives were no different. It was times like this Voltari was almost grateful for what happened to his face, it did half the work for him. 

“Yes?”

The little man scratched at his jaw. “Lord Voltari, His Eminence is here.”

Voltari turned to where the door had opened to reveal Cuddly Dick waving at him as he entered, the figure of Giles just behind. Dick raised a friendly hand in a ‘just a moment, sorry’ gesture as he half-turned to the other Overlord.

“Go ahead Giles, don’t let me keep you. No no, I insist, I just want a little word with Voltari here. Keep up the good work!”

Giles’ replying bow was brief, and he raised his brows at Voltari in silent greeting. Voltari gave him a slight nod back. Dissectus may resent the other man for the whole Eye Incident, but Voltari himself didn’t deem it worthy to hold a grudge. He couldn’t be angry about what he couldn’t totally remember.

The door closed behind Dick and the agents disappeared into their cubicles with a sharp flick of Voltari’s wrist. His Eminence spread his hands happily.

“There’s my favourite Whisperer! All proceeding well I trust?”

“Absolutely my Lord.” Voltari assented, indicating the piles of speeches churning out of the typewriters at speed. “I have personally approved of thirteen different variants of the speech, depending on the outcome of the next incident with the Maddox woman. You’ll have an appropriate response for the people regarding any outcome.”

“Marvellous!” His Eminence purred, wagging a finer at Voltari jokingly. “I knew you’d be the man for the job, I knew it as soon as I laid eyes on you.”

Despite himself, Voltari felt the side of his mouth twitch upwards. “You honour me, Your Eminence.”

Cuddly Dick continued to smile at him. It really was a well calculated smile, Voltari acknowledged to himself. If he hadn’t seen its owner crush Admiral Karral to death, he suspected he’d be taken in by its paternal mask. It also seemed at times he forgot his own hidden strength, as he’d all but crushed Voltari’s shoulder during an innocent conversation not two days ago. The bruises had already faded from purple to green, but the memory of the sudden constricting pain had lingered in Voltari’s arm was still fresh in his mind. 

The populace would look at that cuddly demeanour with its smile and never know the teeth behind. Not even when it was gnawing at their legs to keep them kneeling.

“I actually wanted a word with you, Voltari.” Dick murmured conspiratorially, gently taking him by the elbow and steering him away from any ears of the agents that might be sharp enough to hear them over the clicking of keyboards. 

“Something wrong, my Lord?” Voltari said lowly.

Dick sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that my second-in-command is acting strangely.”

Voltari stiffened. It was easy for him to notice Dissectus was closing off, but for others to see it? These were dangerous waters. A part of him hoped that Dick would clear the matter up, explain that perhaps he’d tasked Dissectus with something of the upmost importance and needed assistance. He clenched his jaw and frowned slightly. “I-”

“It’s no secret he’s been… _off_ ” Cuddly Dick continued, as if Voltari hadn’t spoken. “I do hope he isn’t unwell.”

Voltari bit back a small smirk. Dissectus never got sick, apparently on principle. It always seemed like his constitution took a personal offence to the mere notion that it could be brought down by illness like a commoner. The entirety of his Keep could be confined to their beds and he’d simply swan about, annoyed by the delay to his routine. For people like Voltari, who more easily fell prey to colds, it was irritating beyond belief.

“I don’t think so, my Lord.” He proffered. Cuddly Dick inclined his head.

“Well, you know him best.”

This caught Voltari off guard. He blinked in confusion.

Dick’s smiled faded somewhat. “You _were_ at the Academy together, weren’t you? Oh, I do hope I haven’t gotten you confused with another-” 

“Oh, no you’re not mistaken,” Voltari replied smoothly, relieved there had been no deeper assumption. “Yes, we were in the same year at the school.”

“Lovely.” Dick replied, friendly in tone but with the underlying tinge of someone who did not find the information particularly interesting. “It’s such a shame…”

Something sharp prickled along the back of Voltari’s neck. “Sir?”

“Well, if he’s not ill, then I fear what his behaviour means. Come now Voltari, you said yourself you’ve seen it. The secretiveness? The cold shoulder? I fear he’s keeping something from me.”

Voltari didn’t dare trust himself to speak. Whatever had been going on with Dissectus hadn’t interfered with his job, as far as Voltari had seen. If Dissectus’ goals and loyalties had been shifted, surely it would have reflected in his work? Voltari felt a cold nick of fear along his spine. 

He’d made a dreadful mistake.

He should have lied, agreed Dissectus was ill and left the matter at that. Whatever clever lie he could invent to smooth over the accusation died on the way to his tongue and Dick slid a pointed look his way.

“Or _someone_.”

Beads of sweat threatened to break along Voltari’s hairline. The air got a little sharper with every breath. Voltari felt all his muscles locking to keep from reacting too obviously, pulse thundering in his ears so loudly he had to strain to hear His Eminence’s voice. 

“I’d hate to add to your workload Voltari, I really would. But I need you to keep an eye on him. If he’s talking to someone he shouldn’t be, I’ll have to take drastic measures….it’d be _such_ a shame too…”

Clearing his throat, Voltari endeavoured to slip the panic behind a mask. Dissectus’ sudden issues with him could wait, he needed to know the danger he was in. As far as His Eminence knew, they were old school mates. There would be nothing unusual in talking to him. He’d ask for a private word within earshot of the others if he had too. Paranoia be damned.

“I shall do my best, Your Eminence.” He declared curtly, meeting Dick’s gaze. The man studied him carefully for a moment or two. Voltari stared back; confident his mask was firmly in place. The air around them felt several degrees warmer than it did ten minutes ago, and the sound of keyboards and agents moving around seemed further away than it could reasonably be. 

“I know you will. After all, you know him better than _anyone_. Don’t you, Voltari?”

The world around them both seemed to go still. 

Voltari’s eyes widened, understanding the insinuation as clear as day. Dick’s eyes were suddenly piercing, skewering him to the spot and ripping the mask off to see the secrets beneath. There was no point lying. 

Cuddly Dick rocked back on his heels, and the spell was broken. 

“Lovely.” He smiled. “Keep this between us, yes? You know how trigger happy Kutz can be, I’d _hate_ for him to get the wrong idea about either of you.”

With that, he shot the workers a friendly little wave (which was answered with much bowing and scraping form the sycophants among them) and swept out of the room, the door closing gently behind him.

Voltari kept staring at the closed door, barely registering the shadows moving around him. The unspoken threat echoing in his mind.

Without a word to any of his agents, Voltari stepped into the corridor outside the chamber, breathing deeply to calm his suddenly racing heartbeat. He barely registered his own hand wiping at the cold beads of sweat threatening to break along his brow.

Cuddly Dick knew. He _knew_.

Voltari went over the past few weeks in his mind, trying to work out _how_ he’d found out about them. All these years of careful planning and wearing indifferent faces in front of others’ eyes had been thrown into the wind by His Eminence’s words. Who had seen them?

Had Dissectus….?

No. He shut that thought down with horror. Dissectus was an ambitious man and had been acting strange lately, but he would _never_ use Voltari as a pawn for his own games. Once upon a time they would have stabbed each other in the back and called it a mild flirtation, but now, after everything, they’d come too far to do something so low as to betray each other.

Thinking back, Voltari grimaced. There was no way Dissectus could have been so sloppy as to reveal everything they’d hidden so well. It must have been him, Voltari himself, that had given them away. He cursed himself inwardly, feeling a hot wave of bile rise inside him. What if his sudden coldness had been a reaction to Voltari’s failure? How could he had been so _careless?!_ He was the fucking _Master of Whispers_ for realm’s sake, and yet he’d somehow broken his own secret. He must have been too comfortable, felt too _safe_ , and had betrayed them both as a result.

The air in the corridors, already warm from the summer air, were suddenly stifling. 

Voltari picked up his pace, fingers fluttering by the buttons on his collar as if they weren’t sure to loosen it of their own accord. A servant scuttled around the corner; linens piled in their arms. Voltari stiffened and straightened his spine like a rod, the hand falling to his side. He had already been sloppy for the keen eyes of their leader; he wouldn’t be so sloppy as to let _anybody_ else see him as anything other than cold and unflappable.

Just like Dissectus.

Keeping his footsteps even and calm was a struggle, everything told him to _run, find Dissectus_ but he fought back against the instinct. Still, he forced himself to breathe evenly, schooling his features into a neutral expression when he heard voices filter through the windows.

The other overlords were in the courtyard, stood in lazy groups and chatting about nothing in particular. Voltari made his way over to them, spotting the familiar shape of Dissectus talking amiably with Giles and Draven, no doubt showing off about some past exploit of his. Giles shot him a slight smile as he approached.

“Ah, Voltari,” he greeted, “everything okay with His Eminence?”

“Quite alright.” Voltari lied smoothly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he came to a stop. It was a move he’d picked up from a rebel he’d once had the pleasure of _observing_ , noting how it gave off an air of confidence. He found it incredibly useful. “Just some ideas of how to keep the civilians hating the so-called Chosen One, you know how it is.” 

Giles hummed in acknowledgement and turned back to Dissectus; whom Voltari hadn’t trusted himself to look at fully when he approached. He let the words wash over him, not listening to what was being said. It wasn’t the words themselves he was listening to.

As Dissectus chatted to the others his tone was his usual careless, slightly smug drawl. There was no trace of the slight hiss that crept in whenever he was stressed or anxious. He spoke and gestured as he always did, with nothing to indicate that he had anything to care about in the world. 

_Perhaps he doesn’t,_ his mind whispered treacherously, _you’re the one that fucked up, he’s wise to turn his back on you…_

Looking up at the other man properly Voltari saw nothing in his face either. Despite the storm of guilt and fear inside him, Voltari felt a little comfort at the fact that perhaps Dissectus hadn’t been threatened by Dick directly. He was safer in his ignorance. Perhaps Voltari should keep the threat to himself? He would find a way out for them both, there was no need to cause unnecessary disturbance to the other man. He wouldn’t worry him unduly, not when he had been charged with their defence and needed all his attention on other things should the Maddox woman return.

Just as he began to follow that thought, however, Dissectus glanced his way.

Voltari’s heart stuttered in his chest. In that split second, he saw past the mask of carelessness and had seen the almost manic light hidden behind the eyes. He’d only ever seen that expression once before, when he’d returned home with half his face wrapped in bandages, missing three days of memory and an eye. 

Dissectus wasn’t worried.

He was _terrified._

Draven made some droll remark about Negatus and Dissectus turned to him, laughing openly, throwing his head back as he clapped the other Overlord on the shoulder. Voltari made himself laugh along, not really caring what Draven had said to be so funny. Giles excused himself and withdrew, flagging down a servant to discuss some matter with his chamber. And, after a few minutes, Draven was called over by another of the Overlords and he left with a casual wave. Voltari looked at Dissectus, who was suddenly incredibly invested in some invisible lint on his lapels.

“I need to speak with you,” Voltari half whispered. “In private.”

“Dreadfully sorry Voltari, I can’t.” Dissectus replied airily if a bit too loud. “But – ahem – I’m a bit busy at the moment-”

He shifted as if to go, but Voltari’s hand shot out and caught him by the cuff. 

“ _Now._ ”

For a split second Dissectus looked truly torn. Voltari’s fingers tightened their hold slightly and he sighed. With a casualness it was obvious neither of them felt, they ambled their way through the courtyard and continued down a corridor until Voltari saw an opening; an abandoned cellar the servants hadn’t bothered to put to any use.

With a quick pull he dragged Dissectus in that direction, pushing him into the cool interior.

When the door had shut, Dissectus rounded on him.

“What the fu-?”

“He knows.” Voltari snapped.

Dissectus’ jaw snapped back shut. “What?”

“Cuddly Dick. He knows. He knows about _us_.” 

The same tremor passed over the other man’s features, a shadow of a wince. He stood up straight and met Voltari’s gaze.

“I know.”

Voltari blinked. “Beg pardon?”

Dissectus sighed, running a hand through his hair, ruining the usually impeccable strands. His eyes flicked to the door, as though contemplating making a break for it. Voltari stared hardly at him, silently demanding he explain himself. 

“I know. He…he spoke to me, a few weeks back-”

Voltari didn’t let him finish. With one lightning quick movement, he balled his fist and drove a hard, solid punch to Dissectus’ shoulder.

Dissectus staggered back a step. “Fucking _ow_! What was _that_ for?!”

“What was that _for_? You absolute idiot, you _KNEW?!_ ”

There came another punch, but Dissectus quickly sidestepped it. “I’m sorry, but-”

“What were you _thinking_ -?”

“Listen-”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You complete-”

“’Tari, he _threatened you!_ ”

Voltari stopped his attempted onslaught and stared at the other man. Dissectus swallowed heavily and was looking for all the realms like he couldn’t believe the admission from his own lips. A light pink tinge dusted the high planes of his proud face and Voltari heard the tremble in his voice. Dissectus was a proud man, to let emotion colour his judgement was nothing but shame for him. He must had been incredibly shaken by something; Voltari realised with a start. 

He lowered his hands, still shaking slightly from anger. “Explain?”

Dissectus didn’t look at him. “He came to me a few weeks back, said some stuff… Insinuated that he could take you out to keep me in line.”

Ah there it was. What they had feared the most for years. In a way it made sense, Voltari thought. Something like this was always going to pass, one way or the other. Dissectus had always been worried about their enemies using them to get to each other.

Perhaps there was something in self-fulfilling prophecies, after all. 

“We’ve been threatened before Dissectus. You should have told me, I could have-”

“I _know_ …” Dissectus cut in, something in his posture giving out. He slumped a little, looking a little grey around the edges. “I know ‘Tari. But then he…he _hurt_ you during that conversation between you in the hall – don’t give me that look I saw it – and I thought…I thought that if I distanced myself from you he’d leave you be. I’d hoped to convince His Eminence that he was mistaken, that we weren’t….I’m sorry.”

By the time Dissectus had finished, his voice had taken on a somewhat strangled edge, like the words were wrested from him against his will. Voltari had heard it before, and it told him more in its reluctance what those three little words never could. 

It could break a heart, that voice.

“Look at me.”

Dissectus did, some semblance of his habitual haughtiness slipping back into his expression. Voltari tilted his head, a slight smile pulling at his mouth to indicate the storm had passed.

“If you ever, _ever_ make such a shit-witted decision like that ever again, I will pull your insides out through your throat with my bare hands.”

That earned him a cocked brow. “Your spindly hands? They can barely throw a punch.”

Voltari huffed a laugh. Something broke in Dissectus’s face and, before Voltari could react, he found himself enfolded in the other’s arms. One strong hand came up to cradle the back of his head as his face was buried beside Dissectus’ collar. A part of him screamed that this was a dangerous move, especially now that they knew they were being watched by Dick. It was quickly hushed by another part of him that had desperately _missed_ the presence of the other man. No matter how much he vehemently denied it when they were together, but the occasionally overpowering spicy scent of Dissectus’ cologne was one of Voltari’s favourite smells in the world. It brought a comfort very few things in this or any realm could.

“I thought I’d failed you somehow.” He mumbled, feeling more than hearing Dissectus’ hum of confusion.

“Never.”

Voltari lifted his head and kissed him. It was a brief, furtive thing, trying to cram any reassurance they could into a handful of moments. They broke apart and Voltari instantly missed the warmth the second it had gone. Dissectus’ smile faded, replaced by a look of worry.

“What are we going to do?”

Voltari frowned. There wasn’t a whole lot they _could_ do, under scrutiny as they were. Cuddly Dick would be looking for any opening he could to strike if he thought they were going to be too bothersome to deal with.

“He wants your ambition checked Dissectus. If he was trying to use me to ensure you stay in line, he’s worried you’ll somehow usurp him. He’s _afraid_ of what you can do-”

“Don’t follow that thought.” Dissectus cut in sharply. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“If he’s worried, we can try-”

“I said _no_ Voltari!”

The shout was obviously much louder than Dissectus’ intended. For a heartbeat they both stood in silence, waiting with bated breath for a curious passer-by to show themselves. 

Nobody did. They stood in the darkness of the cellar, eyes on the door warily. Dissectus cleared his throat.

“He’s merely cautious right now, I don’t want to see him afraid.” He half-hissed. “He all but crushed your shoulder as a ‘how-do-you-do’, I won’t run the risk of what he’d do to you if he were desperate enough. I won’t risk _you_ , end of discussion.”

Voltari opened his mouth to argue, but Dissectus’ eyes flashed in the gloom. He inclined his head diplomatically if a bit sarcastically. 

Dissectus nodded curtly, happy Voltari didn’t argue back. “We carry on as we have, for now. Keep doing as he asks, defeating the Chosen One, finding the Elders, whatever. Lie in wait, as it were.”

Voltari exhaled deeply. He knew Dissectus was right. It wasn’t a time to be rash, but to keep their heads down, obey.

And plan.

“And when the time comes?”

Dissectus raised his chin imperiously, eyes boring into Voltari’s with a steely determination. “When the time comes, I’ll need you.”

Voltari met his eyes. “I’ll be here.”

There was a beat of silence before Dissectus nodded, stepped away from him and rearranged his clothes. When he was the impenetrable Lord Dissectus again, he turned to go. Before he left, however, he reached forward and tucked a strand of Voltari’s hair back behind his ear, fingertips lingering on the side of Voltari’s face. Without a word he turned on his heel and swept out of the cellar. 

Voltari left it a few minutes before following suit. He stood alone in the coolness of the cellar, waiting for the strains of Dissectus’ cologne to fade entirely from the air. 

His Eminence had used him to get to Dissectus. It was such a laughably simple thing when stated plainly. Even with the knowledge that the grip on his shoulder hadn’t been an accident as he’d assumed, Voltari hadn’t been bothered. Cuddly Dick could threaten and hurt him as he damn well pleased, Voltari wasn’t scared of him for that. 

It was that he’d tried to subdue _Dissectus_. Their glorious leader had fucking _dared_ …

Dissectus could fear for Voltari’s safety. Voltari would avenge Dissectus’ rattled spirit. He wouldn’t be cowed by that sugary façade again; Voltari would ensure it. Dick thought them too scared to defy him. But His Eminence had forgotten one crucial thing.

Whispers could come from anywhere.

“I’ll be here.” He vowed to the empty air. “He needs me. I’m here.”

Cuddly Dick was watching them.

And Voltari would watch _right back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is still into this AU, I have other pieces planned if anybody wants to read them, including the whole Eye Incident (wink wink nudge)
> 
> my tumblr is barkilphedros-hat, if you wanted to come say hi! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I would like 12 more seasons of Yonderland downloaded into my brain immediately 
> 
> Thank you for indulging me with this! If you'd like to say hi on tumblr, my new tumblr name is @barkilphedros-hat :)


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